The Underground Witch (Incenaga Trilogy)
Read The Underground Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) Online
Authors: Debbie Dee
THE
UNDERGROUND WITCH
Debbie Dee
Also by Debbie Dee
The Last Witch
Text copyright ©2013
by Debbie Dee
Cover art copyright by Isaiah Stephen ©201
3
Published by Dolce Books
All rights reserved. Except as permitted by the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author or the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, dead or living, is entirely coincidental.
Summary:
As the last of the Incenaga Witches, Emmeline has been tortured, abused, and forced to use her power to kill. But unlike the Incenagas before her, she has survived. With her freedom restored, she should feel safe, invincible even. After all, she has the protection of Prince Erick’s army and a power strong enough to obliterate any enemy. Yet Emmeline lives in fear for the next person who will try to control her, and no one can seem to find the tyrant threatening to claim her.
Until it’s too late.
With everything on the line, and the enemy at her throat, will Emmeline be able to use her power like never befor
e
? Even if it kills her?
Dee, Debbie 1981-
The
Underground Witch / by Debbie Dee – 1
st
ed.
ISBN 978-0-615-
78130-3 (Paperback)
For Ethan
,
who always knows when I c
an use a hug.
T
hanks, little man.
Contents
Win.
Tiergan had an iron-willed determination to succeed where oth
ers had not. In fact, failure was a weakness his opponents experienced. Not him. He never failed at anything he set out to accomplish and his current undertaking would be no different. A sneer spread across his face as he thought of the sheer simplicity of his plan, a simplicity his father could never appreciate. His father had failed. Tiergan would not.
Seventeen
years had passed since Tiergan watched his father, the King, return to Griet in a shroud of humiliation, his conquest lost. The people’s admiration faded to disrespect and then turned to contempt. Tiergan watched them conspire against his father and he did nothing to stop them. It wasn’t long before his father rotted in his grave and he sat on the throne himself.
Tiergan
became King of Griet and from the moment the crown rested on his brow he plotted, he planned. Every piece had to be just right. But it wasn’t until a Dolmertian stumbled into the Hall, a man with enough information to matter and enough hatred to make a difference, that Tiergan knew the final piece had fallen into place.
With the Dolmertian
in tow, he and his strongest men left six weeks later. There was no room for doubt among his men, and anyone who hinted at the impossible task before them was eliminated from his strike force.
Tiergan whipped
his horse and led his men toward the sea. Twenty rode behind him, assured by his confidence and terrified of his expectations. They accepted the invitation to join him because it would bring them honor, but Tiergan knew they feared they would not survive the journey. Not because the road ahead was arduous, but because he would not tolerate weakness. Anyone unable to prove his worth on a daily basis, or in a breath’s notice, would be eliminated.
Yet
, his men loved him, they respected him, which was no small feat considering he looked nothing like a Grietian. With a blaze of red on top his head and a smattering of freckles covering his face, he looked more like an oversized farm boy than a King. But he brought their people wealth beyond measure and promised them dominion over all. And they worshiped him for it. The people of Griet would become gods, he told them. Griet would rule the world and crush the backbones of every foreigner until their hearts crumbled and they begged to become slaves. Failure was not a future the people of Griet ever considered because they trusted his unbending determination to win.
Win. Win. Win.
Nothing else mattered.
As they neared the vast sea
, Tiergan pushed off his horse, his boots pounding against the dirt with the force of a boulder. The ground answered with a jarring vibration up his legs and he cleared his throat to hide his grimace. He conceded that his weight had gotten out of hand since the Dolmertian had arrived, but to have the final pieces fall into place was cause for celebration. And what better way to celebrate than with food?
Tiergan
looked toward the sea and narrowed his eyes. The silhouette of a large ship blackened the night sky, its dark outline rocking in the harbor. With every subtle pitch, starlight blinked out from behind the masts, over the sails, and between the ropes. The warm sea lapped against the hull and, as if in response, the ship creaked and settled deeper into its own bones.
The
vessel was exactly the size Tiergan needed and just the sort of ship he knew he would find anchored in the dark bay. Puffing his chest and throwing his shoulders back, he turned to address his soldiers.
“Men, from
this moment on I am not your King and you are not my soldiers. We are fishermen bound for Dolmerti.” He spoke in hushed tones, but his strength resonated through the terse staccato of his words. “I will be your captain and you will obey me without question. You must not refer to me as King until we once again set foot on these banks with our spoils in hand. Understood?”
Several of the men
nodded in assent.
“Yes, Y
our Highness,” the soldier nearest him said.
Tiergan’s jaw tensed, his nostril flaring
. “What did you say?”
The soldier’s eyes grew wide
. He glanced to his left and then his right and then stumbled back a step. “Er…yes, Captain.”
With one hand,
Tiergan grabbed the soldier’s face and, ignoring the man’s wild eyes, reached into his mouth and gripped his tongue. The soldier squirmed and let out a garbled plea, but it was cut short as Tiergan unsheathed his sword and smote off the wet lump of flesh. The surrounding soldiers breathed a collective gasp, a sound piercing though the thick desert air. With the tip of his sword, Tiergan skewered the bloodied mass and raised it into the air, his gaze flashing across his men.
“The next man who refers to me as Highness, or Majesty, or anything to the li
keness will lose more than a tongue. Understood?”
“Yes Captai
n.” The men whisper-shouted.
“Very well
. To the ship.”
Tiergan gave the bloodied soldier a disgusted look and turned toward the sea.
His strides were long and purposeful, slowing only when he neared the bow. Arching his back, he brought his hands to the sides of his mouth and called up above.
“Ahoy there!” he
said.
After several long moments of nothing but the creaking ship and lapping water in response,
Tiergan figured the darkness of the night had sent the men below to slumber. He didn’t have time to wait until morning so he called out again.
“Ahoy!” he shouted a little louder.
“Ahoy!” A
lone voice descended from above.
“Have you any room for a few
fishermen? We can pay a handsome fare.”
A
pockmarked face with a watchman’s cap leaned over the bulwark rail. “Where are ye headed?”
“
To the open sea. We have no preference what we catch or where we sell it, so long as we make a profit.”
The
watchman cocked his head to the side like a dog picking up a strange noise. “Sounds to me like a group of fisherman such as that would need a boat of yer own.”
“Yes, it would sound as such, wouldn’t it?
But I assure you, we do not have the means to procure our own vessel. In time, my friend. In time.”
The
watchman glanced at each of the men before his gaze fell on the bulging purse thumping up and down in Tiergan’s hand.
“Throw me
that purse,” he said. “I’ll see if you have the required fare.”
“Throw me the ladder,” Tiergan
said with more force, but still careful to keep his voice friendly. “You have no reason to distrust a simple fisherman.”
Tiergan’s
authority resonated through his voice. He could feel it rumble in his chest and permeate the watchman’s feeble mind. It was only a matter of seconds before the watchman submitted to him. Everyone submitted to Tiergan one way or another. He only had to wait.